What I've Done
by perverted-squirrel
Summary: As if his life couldn't get any worse . . . now he has ruined his relationship with his best friend over the lure of raging hormones! Why is it always him?
1. The Kiss

He did it

He did it. He couldn't believe he just did that! She was his best friend. His best _girl _friend . . . Why did his one second of momentary lust and hormones have to take over like that? Why? He had no idea. He had had moments like that before . . . where her hair had a certain shine for a moment; or her eyes had a glimmer that he couldn't place. But he had been able to control himself. He was able to hold himself back so something like this wouldn't happen. But it did!

As he walked up the stairs to the Head's dormitory, Harry sat down on his canopy and placed his head into his hands and sighed deeply. Unfortunately, this action caused his glasses to smear a bit . . . so he pulled them off, set them on the table, and put his face into his hands again. This was not his day.

He couldn't help it that she looked especially beautiful today in her button-up shirt, blazer, and (in his opinion) a very short skirt that showed of her shapely legs. And the library was extremely hot that day . . . that was it . . . he lack of clothes and the temperature in the library. He was just reacting to the change of climate . . . and clothing. It wasn't his fault . . . no . . . it was nature's fault.

Bloody nature . . . that was what made her roll up her sleeves and unbutton of few of the topmost buttons on her shirt; revealing her luscious caramel skin . . . and the tiny piece of fabric that was her bra. It was nature that made her sigh, put down her book, and pull her hair up into a messy ponytail . . . revealing her very tempting, and slightly sweating, neck.

It was all nature's fault!

Harry laughed into his hands. Who was he kidding? It was his entirefault. He was the one who was so flustered by her movements . . . so distracted by her biting her bottom lip slightly in concentration. His body couldn't help but react. He was a seventeen-year-old boy —I mean, man— for Merlin's sake! It was in his nature!

Nature . . . maybe it was all nature's fault. _No, _he said to himself, _it was you and your randy hormones that got you into this mess. _

He decided to call it a night and pulled his pants and shirt off, throwing them to the floor, and slipping on some light pajama bottoms. It still was hot outside . . . even if it was ten at night. Maybe he should have thought twice about going to sleep . . .

He was in the library . . . studying with Hermione for their Potions exam. Slughorn had been very specific that this was easily going to be the hardest exam they will ever take. So, naturally, Harry asked Hermione for help. She, of course, accepted to help him. Ron was absent because he thought that since the exam was in two weeks . . . he could study later and dolly around now. Actually . . . his exact words were: "Who needs to study when there are brooms and girls to ride!"

_Hermione shook her head and sighed in frustration when Ron said this. But it wasn't uncommon. Ron had become quite the womanizer in their seventh year. He'd had about ten girlfriends in one week. Some of his close friends (Harry included) jokingly called him the 'Next Sirius Black'._

_While Harry was busy copying down notes from the book Hermione was letting him borrow, he caught a hint of movement from the right side of him. He turned around . . . only to find Hermione pulling the rubber band off of her wrist and tying her hair in a loose ponytail. She looked at him and smiled, causing him to smile back and look down at his paper . . . blushing slightly._

_All was going well for the next few minutes . . . until Harry saw another movement from beside him. More nonchalantly, he looked to his right and his mouth dropped. Hermione's sleeves were rolled up and she was unbuttoning her shirt._

Oh Merlin . . . this can't be good . . .

Actually, it was the opposite of good. It was bad . . . horrible, even. Hermione had undone the two topmost buttons of her shirt. And that revealed her tan, caramel colored skin . . . and —what was that— a bit of red, lacy fabric that could only be . . .

Her bra.

He was in deep now. When he turned back to his paper and quill, he found his hand both sweating and shaking. He placed his left hand over it to cease the movement so she wouldn't notice . . . no success.

Hermione did notice . . . and looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Harry?" she asked in a whisper.

Harry jumped a little from the sound of her voice . . . also not going un-noticed by Hermione. "Are you alright?"

Harry looked her in the eye . . . not a good idea. He was immediately lost in her cinnamon pools. He couldn't speak. She'd know he was lying. How, you ask? She always knew. So he settled for nodding and quickly looked back down to his parchment.

She grinded her teeth. She could tell. She could tell he was lying . . . there was no doubt that she could tell. She looked down to his paper and saw his scribbling with a shaky —and obviously sweating— hand. So his neat handwriting was being to look like the chick-scratch that Ron's was.

Out of instinct, she placed her cool palm atop his trembling one, causing him to jump a little at the contact. "Harry . . . please tell me."

He shook his head, not looking up from his notes. She couldn't know. She would freak out and never speak to him again. Or worse . . . she could feel sorry for him and give him 'the speech' on how there is always someone out there for someone . . . but she wasn't it. Oh . . . that was his worst nightmare. "I'm fine, 'Mione."

She mimicked his action, "No you're not. Something's bothering you . . . and I'm not going to stop until I find out what."

He smiled a little inside. Of course she wouldn't . . . she would bug him constantly about it. "It's nothing important."

Hermione smiled, confusing Harry a bit, "Harry . . . anything that concerns you, concerns me. Even if it isn't about me . . . I still want to know so I can help you."

Oh, it was about her all right. She had no idea how bloody mad she was making him! He couldn't even focus on an assignment because she unbuttoned her shirt trying to cool herself off. "I know you want to help," he said, looking up slowly from the table and finally meeting her eyes again. He gulped a little and started speaking before his voice would cease —which he knew it would— "But I am fine . . . It's nothing."

"Harry, nothing is always something to you." She squeezed her hand slightly atop his, causing his palms to sweat more, "Whatever it's about . . . it must be important enough for you to not focus on studying for the upcoming Potions exam."

He smiled at her. Trust Hermione to relate the situation to homework. Surprisingly . . . she smiled back.

Oh no.

That smile. That dazzling, bright, gorgeous smile! That was the one thing that set him off of the edge. Not the skin that was exposed on her chest. Not the tantalizing next that was clearly visible now that her hair was pulled back. Not her cinnamon eyes with a life of their own.

Why was her smile so important? It not only showed off her pearly while teeth . . . but also drew attention to her plump, pink lips. No sane man can resist the magnetic pull of a girl —no, woman's— lips. So that was exactly what happened.

His eyes darted to her lips . . . then her eyes . . . then her lips again. Unconsciously, he turned his hands around and intertwined her small hand with his. This caused her to look at their adjoined hands and give Harry the element of surprise.

When her gaze drifted back up to Harry . . . she found his lips colliding with hers in a chaste kiss. It wasn't a passionate kiss . . . or even a kiss at all. Just a brief joining of the lips. It was over before it began, basically.

Even though it was such a short encounter, Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw a faint blush come across the cheeks of Hermione. Wait . . . a blush? Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, biggest know-it-all in the history of all mankind, did not blush. Not one occasion had she blushed. Not one that Harry could recall. Was that a good sign?

Obviously it was, because not even a second later, Hermione leaned in and kissed him lightly. It was a tiny bit longer than the fist kiss they had shared. But it was sill a kiss.

She kissed me back!

She pulled back from him slightly to find him the lightest shade of pink . . . matching her tinted cheeks. He took this as a good sign. A very good sign. Her lips were so soft . . . so smooth. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to feel her lips upon his. So he kissed her.

It started out as that. Them giving each other chaste kisses. Until Harry turned around in his chair, causing her to do the same. The effect was that their knees were now touching. They looked each other in the eyes and leaned in, the kisses lasting long and longer each time.

Harry slid his hand from the back of his chair to her golden locks and pulled her lips to his. Her hands, in turn, went to start caressing his legs. This made his stomach dance with butterflies waiting to burst out.

Her lips dragged across his, his face tilted to get a better angle. Before they knew it . . . they were standing. He took this opportunity to grab her by her waist and pull their bodies closer. Her hands made their way up to his neck and played with the ebony locks, causing Goosebumps to erupt.

He turned them around and stepped forward until her back collided with a bookshelf. He felt her smile into their kiss. Trust Hermione to get turned on by having her back pressed against numerous books.

Harry's hands began to wander to her waist and play with the hem of it. When he touched bare skin, she moaned.

Oh, Merlin, she moaned!

He mouth was now slightly parted and gave Harry the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. It was everything he thought it would be. Warm, welcoming . . . and wet, of course. Her tongue found his and they soon began to tangle within each other.

When he began to move his hands further south, he went rigid. He shouldn't be doing this. Hermione was his best friend. He couldn't take advantage of her like this. Friends do not snog friends!

He looked up into her eyes to find her looking at him with a slightly furrowed brow. She was confused. She obviously wanted it, too. She kissed him back, for Merlin's sake! But, Harry figured this was all heat-of-the-moment and detangled himself from her, leaving her hands limp by her waist.

He felt her eyes staring holes into his back when he began to pack his things into his book bag. He couldn't turn around and face her. It would take all of his energy to not kiss her again. He shrugged the book bag onto his shoulders and started to walk away.

"Harry!"

He heard her calling his name. He refused to respond.

"Harry!"

She was no longer whispering and was practically yelling at him.

"Harry!"

It was a desperate call for him to come back.

As he made his way further down the hall, the calls got dimmer and dimmer until they finally eased altogether. He then broke out into a jog to get back to his common room, so as not to risk being caught by her.

"Harry!"

What? That wasn't supposed to happen . . . he was supposed to go back to his room and fall asleep.

"Harry!"

Wait . . . the voice sounded awfully close . . .

"Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring at the drapes of his canopy. He wiped the sweat that was now accumulated on his brow. Of course he would dream about what happened that night. It was just Merlin's way of torturing him . . . playing a very cruel joke.

The banging on his door was noticeable now. It was her. She wanted to ask him why he walk away. Well . . . he couldn't tell her. She wouldn't understand. And she never would . . .

"Harry James Potter, open up your door this instant or I will open it myself!"

She couldn't. He made sure to put the strongest silent locking charm he knew on there. There was no way she could get through . . .

"Fine! You leave me with no choice . . . Reducto Maximus!"

The door of his room blew open, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere. Apparently he forgot one tiny detail . . . she was Hermione.

She walked into his room, carefully stepping over the broken shards of wood that now scattered his floor. He then noticed that he, himself, was covered in woodchips, so he brushed them off and they joined the rest on the floor.

When he looked up, he saw Hermione look at him . . . the evidence she was crying was overwhelming. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose was the slightest shade of pink, and tearstains covered her cheeks. He felt his stomach plunge. He made her cry. He made Hermione . . . his best friend . . . his snogging partner for five glorious minutes . . . cry.

"Hermione . . ." he started, "I can ex—"

"No." she interrupted, "I don't want you to explain yourself."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Y-you don't?"

"No." she said, "It's obvious that you don't like me enough to . . . to continue kissing me."

He shook his head, "‛Mione . . . it's nothing like that."

"Oh really?" she asked, "T-then what is it?"

Harry pushed the covers off of him, "I just . . . I didn't want to take advantage of you. I didn't want to force you to do something you didn't want to do."

"Harry . . . I made it quite clear that I wanted to kiss you, too."

"I know . . ."

"Then why did you walk away from me . . . after I called your name ten times? Madame Pince had to give me a warning because I was screaming at the top of my lungs for you to come back."

Harry laughed. Bad idea. Hermione did not take to laughing in this circumstance very kindly. He brow furrowed, her hair seemed to stick out on end . . . she looked absolutely peeved.

"This is no laughing matter, Harry!"

Harry straightened up his posture as much as you could if you were lying on a bed, "I'm sorry . . . It's just . . . you, getting in trouble for yelling in the library . . . after what we . . ." He couldn't help it . . . he started to laugh again.

This time, however, Hermione joined by laughing a little herself. They both stopped abruptly, letting an awkward silence envelope the room. Harry gathered up enough courage to speak first, "‛Mione . . . I'm really sorry that I ran off."

She looked up at him, "Really?"

He nodded his head, "Yeah."

She nodded her head, while a small smile played at the corner of her lips. Harry took this as a good sign and got off of his bed and walked towards her. Since he was a good five foot nine and she five foot six, he had to look down while she looked up.

She wrapped he arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. His hands made their way to her back and he rubbed there lovingly. She pulled her face away by an inch and their noses were touching. Just when he was about to lean in, she stopped him by speaking in a whisper, "I do have one more question."

He smiled, "Ask away."

She returned his smile, "Why was it, exactly that you kissed me in the first place?"

"Well . . . when you started to unbutton your shirt like that . . . and pull you hair back . . . I couldn't resist."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, "Is that the only reason? Because you were randy?"

Harry shook his head, "N-no of course not."

She tilted her head to the side while she unwound her hands from behind his neck, "Would you care to explain why to me, then?"

Harry was at a loss for words. Why did he kiss her? Surely he thought she was the most beautiful girl —woman— he'd ever met. But why did he have a sudden interest in her. Was it just because he was randy?

Oh Merlin, he thought, I don't know why . . . and of all the bloody time in the world to be pondering why . . .

"I . . . uh . . . w-well you s-see . . ."

Hermione put her hands on her hips and started to tap her foot impatiently, "Well?"

He started to sweat. What should he tell her? Should he lie? No . . . she would be able to tell. What in the bleeding hell was he supposed to do?

"Well . . . its obvious what is going on."

Harry looked at her. It was? Did she have an explanation to why he wanted to kiss her in the first place? "It is?"

"Yes. It is all plain and clear as crystal." She said.

Harry raised his eyebrow, "Care to share with the class?"

"I was just another snog." She said.

"What?" Harry asked.

Hermione's jaw clenched and he could see the tears starting to well up in her eyes. "I was just another snog for you. You don't really care about me . . . I was just there when you were a tad randy. I was just a play-thing."

"What?"

"It's all so clear to me now. You're starting to become just like Ron. Snogging and —Merlin forbid— shagging any girl you please. You obviously don't care about me o-or my feelings. I'm just a know-it-all, prude bookworm, who doesn't know a thing about relationships because the only one I-I've had was with someone who could barely speak proper English!" Hermione had a single tear running down her cheek. How he wanted to rub or kiss it away. But he still didn't know why! But certainly that wasn't the reason . . . he would never use Hermione like that. Ever.

Would he?

When he didn't respond, more tears started to fall, "I knew it. I-I knew I shouldn't have fallen for you . . . if this is where it leads me. It's clear that you don't feel the same way about me. So I-I'll just save you all the trouble and leave."

Before Harry could even protest her reasoning, she sprinted out the door, leaving a very empty . . . and very lonely room.

What have I done?

o○◦○o


	2. Ignorance is Bliss

It had been three days

It had been three days. Three long and gruesome days since Hermione had talked to him . . . or even acknowledged his mere presence. He found himself missing her more than he ever thought possible. Hermione had been his solstice, his rock . . . his . . . he didn't even know what she was right now. Friend? Enemy? Incredible hot chick who—

No. He would _not _think of his best friend like that. But if she wasn't that . . . what was she . . . and why in the bleeding hell had he kissed her? It was not nature. That was for sure.

Harry lay down atop his bed, these confusing thoughts rushing throughout his head. It was two-thirty in the morning. And today was Hogsmeade. Bloody perfect. Ron still had no idea what had gone down between Hermione and himself. But he would certainly suspect something when they went to The Three Broomsticks on their 'double date' with him and Luna. Even someone as thick as Ron would notice when his two best friends weren't talking. _Although . . . he might be too wrapped up in Luna . . . lets hope so._

Harry decided to give up on the sleeping idea and threw off his covers. He quickly showered and dressed in his usual jeans and jumper. Pulling on his trainers, he made his way towards the one place he could be alone. The Room of Requirement.

His shoes adjusted to his feet on his way through the dark halls. The fabric of his invisibility cloak and stiff wood of his wand clutched in his two hands. He walked three times by the familiar blank wall, thinking of a place to . . . well . . . think.

The door appeared and Harry was welcomed into a room much like his own Heads Dorm. It had a canopy, bookshelf, and a very comfy-looking couch. He walked over to the couch and placed his head into his hands, rubbing his temple gently.

Who was Hermione to him right now? His best friend, obviously. But other than that she was . . . intelligent . . . stubborn . . . beautiful . . . sexy . . .

No.

Not those thoughts again. He knew he was a teenage boy with hormones, but this was getting out of control. Usually these feelings went away after awhile. They did with Cho and Ginny. But Hermione for some reason was different. She meant more to him than both Ginny and Cho combined as just a _friend_ . . .

These feelings started a few months ago, after he accidentally saw Hermione in the prefect's bathroom. _That_ took a few minutes in the cold shower to get over. But after that, he started to see Hermione in this new light. He noticed when she made the slightest movement, his stomach felt weird whenever she was talking to him, and when she looking at him with those eyes . . .

_Bloody Hell._

He fancied Hermione! Harry Potter fancied his best friend, Hermione Granger. But, this was no ordinary fancy . . . oh, no . . . he figured that out unconsciously a while ago. He was _in love _with her. In love with Hermione.

This was not good. Not good at all. But it did explain a few things . . .

Harry sighed and sprawled himself on the couch, closing his eyes. How could he be in love with her? Why him? Why now? It was supposed to be the happiest and non-questionable time in his life since he defeated Voldermort that summer. Now he had to go and fall in love and screw it all up. Just perfect.

He didn't blame Hermione, oh no. She was perfect. She had no faults. So it wasn't her fault . . . definitely not. It was just his fault. Him and his stupid heart that wouldn't leave him be.

All Harry knew was it was hard to fall out of love, or so his superiors said. But . . . he didn't _want _to fall out of love. This feeling . . . it felt _good_. After years of being scared and feeling helpless he was finally experiencing something he didn't want to end.

The clock struck three and Harry felt his eyelids drooping. Maybe that was what was preventing him from sleeping. He wanted himself to figure out why he kissed Hermione. And he did. He figured it all out . . . that meant he could talk to her again! No more ignorance! But how would he get Hermione to agree to such a thing? As far as he knew . . . she hated him.

Harry felt the sleepiness leave him and he sat up straight. He looked around the room, trying to think of _something _that could persuade Hermione to talk to him. His eyes wandered to the coffee table in front of him, where there lay a single leather-bound book.

Harry furrowed his brows, lent down, and picked up the curious object. He hadn't noticed it before. He turned it over and opened the cover. There, engraved on the inside of the cover in black ink was a single name. _Lily Marie Evans. _

_Mum. _He thought to himself.

His breath hitched in his throat. Whatever this book contained . . . it was once in the hands of his mother. Harry smiled to himself. He had never seen many things of Lily's . . . just old photographs and letters that he found throughout Godric's Hollow in the hunt for the Horcruxes.

He turned the first page of the book and read the first line, _Dear Diary._

This was his mother's diary! Her diary from Hogwarts. Why would this be in here? He shook his head and tried not to think to hard about it. He wanted to read it. He wanted to see what his mother's life was like when she was in school here.

He read . . . and he read . . . and he read.

Each neat word was being encrypted in his brain. Each syllable causing him to crack a smile. His mother's life was like any others . . . only different in a way he couldn't place. The diary started in her fifth year, and was going until her seventh. It wasn't until he saw his father's name on one of the entries that he stopped.

James was mentioned throughout the diary, of course. But it was usually followed by 'incessant toe rag' or 'insensitive wart'. This entry was different. He continued to read.

_Dear Diary,_

_James did the sweetest thing today. Now I know you are going to think I am crazy. James and sweet in the same sentence? It's the apocalypse! But, no. It started out as any other Saturday would. It was Hogsmeade and right when I entered the Great Hall, I found a letter on the spot where I regularly sit. It was from a secret admirer. They told me to meet them by the Shrieking Shack at 2 PM sharp. I am not one to usually go somewhere just because someone told me too, especially if that person is a complete stranger! But Alice told me different. She told me to get off of my prude ass and have a little fun. And thank Merlin I did._

_When I arrived at the Shack, I saw a figure in the distance, leaning against the ragged fence that blocked the shack off from the rest of the village. Their hood was up, even though it was well past 90 degrees outside. But it was mysterious, and I liked it . . . a lot. When the figure turned around I saw that the hood covered his face as well, hidden in the shadows. I could tell that he was smiling at me from the way he asked me to come over to him. I obliged, of course, and he asked me if I liked to fly. I told him I didn't mind it and he told me that was good. His voice had a familiarity I couldn't place, but I didn't need to worry about that. _

_He led me into the trees surrounding Hogsmeade. I saw a lone broom propped up against a tree. He picked up the broom and laid it on the ground so it floated in midair. He motioned me to get on and I did. He got on behind me, put his arms around my waist and covered his hands over mine to take a firm grip on the broom._

_The ride was amazing and the view just as well. I asked him who he was; I wanted to know who the charmer behind the hood was. He laughed and asked me if I was sure. I nodded and he removed the hood. I gasped. It was James. I nearly lost my balance. I looked into his eyes and he asked me if I wanted to get off then and there. I had the overwhelming urge to . . . I really did. But something in my brain told me not to. And that little bit made a huge impact. I shook my head._

_We continued the ride and he rested his head on my shoulder. I turned my head and we locked eyes. He kissed me. James Potter kissed me! I know I would normally push him off and storm away for him even attempting . . . but the fact we were 50 feet up in the air made a difference. That, and I actually wanted him to kiss me. Yes, Diary, you heard me right . . . I _wanted _him to kiss me. _

_When we got off of the broom he asked me the question I had become quite accustomed too the past few years. "Will you go out with me, Lily?". But this time . . . I said yes. I have a new boyfriend. A new love. And his name is James Harold Potter._

Harry set the book beside him on the couch with a smile. This truly was an amazing room. It showed him his mother's diary . . . and inside of that . . . a truly brilliant plan to win over Hermione. And he might even get another kiss out of it.

When he looked at the clock, he saw that it was eight in the morning. Wow, his mother wrote a lot. Harry exited the room and headed towards the Great Hall. Going over his new plan the whole way down.

Ron was at the table with Luna by his side. He was forced to sit beside Hermione, not that he minded. They ate their breakfast in a silence. Harry was refraining himself from giving any hint of what was to come. But when a paper dove flew into Hermione's lap from what seemed to be nowhere, he couldn't help but to crack a smile.

The whole Gryffindor table seemed to go silent when they noticed the note in Hermione's hands. "Well go on . . . open it!" Ron told her.

Hermione nodded and carefully unfolded the letter. Her face went from confused to embarrassed to gleeful. She placed the note beside her and continued to eat her food, but with a smile on her face. Harry noticed that Ron looked impatient and wasn't surprised when he asked, "What did it say?"

Hermione looked up, "What did what say?"

"The note, smart ass. The thing that you were blushing at." Ron earned a smack in the stomach from Luna for that comment. He looked at her with an innocent shrug. Luna just shook her head and continued to eat.

"Oh. It was nothing . . . really."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "For some odd reason, I don't believe that."

"You shouldn't." Hermione retorted.

"Then tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"No."

Before Ron could counter, Luna intervened, "She doesn't have to tell us if she doesn't want to, Ronald."

Ron looked down, defeated, and picked at his food. A thing he only did when he was annoyed. Harry found the situation hilarious for some reason and chuckled a little bit. This caused Hermione, Luna, and Ron to look at him.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Ron asked.

"It so obvious." Harry said.

"What's so obvious?" Luna asked him.

"What the letter to Hermione was about."

Ron looked expectantly at Harry for a while. When he saw that Harry wasn't going to continue he asked, "Care to share with us?"

Harry looked at Hermione and found her staring daggers at him. He didn't want to do this, but it would make it almost impossible for her to guess who the letter was really from. And it was a risk he was willing to take. "'Mione here has a secret admirer."

Hermione's face turned red and Ron looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his sockets. Shaking her head with clenched teeth, she looked Harry straight in the eyes, "I hate you!"

Her voice echoed off of the stone walls and caused the entire hall to go silent. Even the staff table was having a peek at the scene. Hermione continued her rant, ignoring the attention that she was gathering, "Did you hear that, Harry? I HATE YOU!"

Harry nodded, "I heard you. But would you care to share why?"

"You know very well why! You kissed me, Harry! I'm just some prize to you, aren't I? Just some flunkey slut who would do anything to have Harry Potter in their pants!"

The hall gasped at Hermione's choice of words. Even Harry was affronted, but he had to keep a calm demeanor. This would work out. It had too. "You know very well that I do not think of you like that in any way."

Hermione stood up, Harry following suit. Her face was as red as Ginny and Ron's hair combined now. He could see tears forming in her eyes. _Oh no, I'm making her cry._ Harry blinked took a deep breath. This was all for the best.

"Then what do you think of me, Harry?!"

"I think you're supposed to be my best friend. And best friends don't go and give each other silent treatments for a stupid mistake."

"Mistake?" Harry realized he said the wrong thing. "MISTAKE?!"

She walked up to Harry and smacked him so hard across the face that he was sure the house elves in the kitchens could hear. "You're just lucky today is Hogsmeade. Just count your lucky stars that I will be leaving at two or you would be nothing but a puddle on the floor!"

Harry rubbed his cheek, trying to ease the pain. It didn't work. Just made it ache more. "And where exactly do you have to go?"

"I happen to have someone who _cares _about me meeting me somewhere. Happy now?" Hermione turned to yell at the rest of the hall, "Yes, I Hermione Granger, Know-It-All Bookworm have a date this afternoon! Deal with it!"

With that said she stormed off and slammed the oak doors behind her. Harry just stared at the door. He better do one hell of a job on the broom ride or he was toast. Or, as Hermione kindly put it, a puddle on the floor.

The four friends sat at a table towards the back of The Three Broomsticks. The silence was unbearable for them. So Ron spoke up. "Who wants butterbeer?"

He received grunts and nods in reply from both Harry and Hermione. Luna, being who she was, perkily responded with a "Thank you, Ronald! I would love one." Ron smiled at his girlfriend's response. At least _someone _was in a good mood.

Ron left for the bar where he placed their orders, leaving Luna alone with the two silent friends. Luna hated seeing her friends like this. Even though she hadn't known them as long as Ron or Ginny did, she did become quite close to them since the Department of Mysteries. She decided to take action.

"You two shouldn't fight, you know." She said with her usual dreamy tone.

Hermione looked at her with an unreadable expression on her face, "No offence, Luna, but it really isn't and of your business."

Harry looked at Hermione with a furrow in his brow, "Don't talk to her like that, Hermione."

"Well, it really isn't any of her business, is it?"

"You made it hers and everyone else's business when you screamed at me in the Great Hall this morning." Harry countered.

"With good reason."

"Oh, and telling Ron you have a secret admirer is a crime, now is it?"

"My romantic life doesn't concern you or anyone else but me and . . . whoever wrote the note."

"You don't even know who it is?"

"Of course I don't. It's called a _secret admirer _notefor a reason, Harry. Not a 'Hey my name is Matthew and I really like you, so do you wanna meet me for lunch?' letter."

"You know this is stupid, right?" Luna interrupted.

"What are you talking about, Luna?" Harry asked before Hermione could retort.

"You both are throwing away your friendship that you have worked seven years over for nothing. A kiss between friends is nothing. I should know."

"How do you know, Luna?"

"When I was six, I had one friend. His name was Matt oddly enough and he was the only one I could talk to about things. He kissed me before I came here. I was confused and ignored him for a while but then realized that he was my best friend and it was a stupid thing to be upset about. We still talk when I go home for holidays, and I am glad that I kept my friend." Luna smiled,

"You two have been friends since first year. That's a long time. And you are two of the closest people I know. Just think about the things you've been through throughout the years."

Hermione looked deep in though and closed her eyes. It was a few minutes before she opened them again. There were tears in them. "Harry?" she asked, "Can I speak to you outside?"

Harry nodded and followed her out the door. As soon as he closed the door behind him, his vision was obstructed by a bunch of cinnamon curls. He automatically wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. It felt so good having her in his arms again.

She pulled back from him, much to Harry's dismay. "I'm so, so sorry, Harry!"

Harry smiled at her, "It's okay, 'Mione."

"Really? I was rather horrible to you these past few days."

"I'm positive. You are still my best friend, and you always will be."

Hermione smiled and enveloped him in another (but briefer) hug. "Looks like World War III is over."

Hermione giggled and grabbed his forearm, "Lets go funny boy." She led him back into the pub and sat down with a smile plastered on her face. Luna noticed the change and smiled at her accomplishment. Ron just looked confused.

"Is the feud over? Can I sleep in peace now?"

Harry, Luna, and Hermione laughed. "You didn't even know we were fighting until this morning." Hermione said.

"True." Ron said, "But a guy can try to crack a joke, can't he?"

"Try being the key word." Hermione countered.

The table laughed and the atmosphere visibly lightened. "So . . ." Ron said. "About that kiss . . ."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, blushed, and tried to avoid the subject. They were not successful.

Harry was waiting for Hermione to show up at the entrance to the shrieking shack. It was hard to believe his father was standing here not even twenty years ago for his mother. It was surreal, actually. The butterflies (or dragonflies, as he liked to refer to them as) in his stomach never ceased in their movements. The anticipation was killing him. In a few minutes he and Hermione would be up in the sky. He had no idea how he was going to get her up there, since she was terrified of heights. He would find a way. He hoped.

Harry checked the watch on his wrist and pulled the hood of his cloak up. It was one fifty-five. She would be there in five minutes. Harry started to break out in sweat. He didn't know if it was because he was nervous, or how hot it was in this black cloak. His dad was one crazy bloke. But it worked on his mum . . . so it had to work for Hermione.

Harry heard footsteps behind him. She was here. He kept his back turned towards her and faced the shack making a last-minute checklist in his mind.

_Broomstick . . . check._

_Overly hot robe . . . check._

_But—Fireflies in stomach . . . check._

_Confidence that this will go well . . . _

Harry turned around when the footsteps stopped. He knew he only left thirty minutes ago for a 'date' . . . but he found himself feeling like a weight was lifted off of his shoulder when she was near him. He smiled beneath his hood.

"I don't bite"

He saw her smile and blush while she walked closer to him. He could tell she was trying to figure out his identity by the way her head was tilted. She wouldn't get off that easily. "Why can't you show me your face?" she asked.

"Many reasons. But you'll know eventually. You have my word on it."

"And I am supposed to trust your word?"

He chuckled, "It would do you well too."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in question, "You sound like your going to commit homicide with me as your first victim."

"My intentions towards you have nothing to do with anything that graphic."

"Well that's a relief." She said.

Harry was surprised at how calm she seemed. Hermione said at lunch she was nervous about meeting her date. Looks like she puts on a very convincing act. If she hadn't told him she was nervous, he would have thought she was very confidant about this meeting. Touché, Miss Granger, touché.

Harry took a step towards her, "Do you like to fly?"


	3. Forever and Always

I was originally very nervous for this date

I was originally very nervous for this date . . . but for some reason I felt very comfortable around this stranger. The hood was a very annoying obstacle in me finding out who my charmer was . . . but it was very mysterious and it made me want to pour my heart out to him . . . odd . . . I've never felt this way about someone whom I've first met. Was that normal? I don't think so. I could tell he was very confident in himself when he was speaking to me. I think he has enough reassurance for the both of us.

"Do you like to fly?"

I stopped in my tracks. This question made my blood run cold and my eyes widen in shock. Fly? Oh no . . . anything but flying. That was the one thing that could bring this date to the dogs . . . being up fifty feet in midair on a thin piece of wood.

"Erm . . . not exactly." I answered him.

The stranger tilted his head to the side in pure curiosity, "Why do you say that?"

Should I tell him? He seemed trustworthy enough. Besides . . . what other excuse was there? 'Sliding down a thin shaft reminds me too much of unmentionable things'? I don't think so. Then he would think I was a horny bookworm who only studies and reads romance novels. Although I have read a few of those types of books in my time . . . I wasn't obsessed with them, making them the substitute for my lack of a love life.

"I'm sorta afraid of heights . . ." I told him with a blush to my cheeks.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of." He told me, "But there's really nothing to be afraid of."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, "And why do you say that?"

He took a step towards me and held out his hand, "Come on."

I smiled as I took his hand. It felt good intertwined with mine . . . it was a perfect fit. He was leading me to a patch of trees off towards the village. As we walked deeper into the thin patch of wood I saw a broom lent up against an old oak tree. Did he seriously think he was going to get me in midair? Ha. He could try.

He let go of my hand and walked towards the tree. Taking a hold of the broom, he walked to me with it in hand and dropped it about a foot away from where I was standing. It started levitating in midair with a simple wave of his hand and came up to my waist. I looked at him with a weary look.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

I thought about that for a moment. I just met him . . . I think . . . unless he was somebody I already knew . . . which was very likely, since in Hogwarts almost everybody knew who everyone was. But do I really trust him enough to put my life in danger by cause of a broom? I could easily die on that thing! And I don't want my grave marker to say 'Hermione Granger; Great friend, Overachieved student; Killed by falling off of a broom'.

"Yes."

My answer surprised me. I couldn't control myself around this boy. It was like my mind turned to mush and my own opinions didn't even matter. My mouth was an automatic response mechanism when he asked me a question. I wouldn't be surprised that if he asked me to jump off of the Astronomy Tower, I would say 'Yes' without hesitation and go on and do it.

He got on the other side of the broom and helped me get onto it by grabbing my hand again and allowing me to climb onto his leg. It took me a while to adjust to the feeling of the broom underneath me, but I did eventually. He got on behind me and whispered in my ear, "Are you ready?" Causing shivers to erupt from my spine and my back to tense slightly.

I nodded my head as he gently kicked off of the ground. I closed my eyes tightly as I felt us lift off of the sturdy ground. _Goodbye lovely ground . . . I shall miss your sturdy and reassuring form._ My hands were shaky on the wood beneath them, causing us to wobble in the air. I started to hypervenalate slightly at the thought of dropping to the ground . . . that is . . . until I felt his hand come to cover mine. My breath steadied and my eyes were becoming less painful to close. How come he had this effect on me with one simple touch?

"Open you eyes." He whispered to me.

I did as instructed without hesitation (_damn automatic response mechanism!_) and squeaked in fear at the height we were at. We must have been three stories high at least! If I fell, I would be dead on contact with the ground. Or . . . if I was lucky . . . I would become paralyzed from the neck down and be forced to be on a wheelchair for the rest of my life. I lent backward, feeling fait at the overwhelming thought rushing throughout my brain cells, and collided with his firm chest. "Relax." I heard him say to me, "Don't think about anything . . . just take it all in."

How did he expect me to do that? We were so high up! What else could I possible take in other than our current height off of the ground?! I don't kn—oh Merlin . . .

The scenery . . . it was beautiful. The clouds, the trees, the people below us walking around the village . . . shopping and having a good time. Was this what he meant? The view from a birds eye view? If it is then I know what he's talking about now. It was breathtaking. I never thought I would say this . . . but I liked being this high up. If I could do this everyday, I would. Just to see the view. He must have sensed my realization, because he spoke up and brought me out of my revere.

"I told you."

I smiled and looked back at him. This was truly a perfect setting for a kiss . . .

Whoa . . . where did _that _come from. Although I didn't doubt that fact. But . . . I still don't know who my mystery suitor is. That would be something that would help out a little bit. I would like to see the face of the boy who was close to stealing my heart. "Why don't you show me who you are?" I asked him curiously.

He chuckled, "Are you sure you want me to do that?"

"Unless you're a Slytherin or have an enormously noticeable acne formation on your face . . . than yes."

I felt his hands remove from their place atop mine and saw him tug at the hood on his face. I gasped at the sight. I could feel my stomach drop down and my body go numb. It was Harry. The boy who set this whole thing up . . . was Harry. Oh my god.

"Harry?" I whispered, unable to believe my own eyes. This must be a trick . . . it _must _be.

He nodded his head, "I couldn't think of another way to get your attention."

I chuckled, this was Harry all right, "There are other ways less . . . erm . . . drastic. But I'm not complaining."

"I'm glad."

I turn around and feel his head rest on my shoulder; I shiver at the close contact. We continued to glide above the treetops, the wind blowing both of our heads of hair behind us. His breath is tickling my neck as he speaks to me, "I love you, 'Mione."

I turn around in shock. He loved me? Harry _loves _me?! How could that be? Him and I were just friends . . . friends who shared a rather interesting kiss in the library almost a week ago. But he said he didn't have a reason for kissing me and now he just comes out and says he loves me?! How messed up is that?! How could one change their opinion within such a short amount of time?

True . . . I fancied him at the time of our kiss . . . and probably up until now . . . and possibly before we found ourselves in this situation. But love is a rather strong word. True, I cared for Harry deeply . . . I was a nervous wreck at the time of the Final Battle when he faced Voldermort for the final time; I was the only one there for him at the time of the Triwizard Tournament; I warned him about the Department of Mysteries and the vision he had seen with Sirius being tortured; I even kissed his cheek a fair few times. But those feelings were truly platonic; those actions were purely out of my friendly nature towards him. Nothing but a friend caring for a friend's safety and well-being . . . right? There is still a nagging feeling inside of me telling me that that's is all a lie. Maybe I do love him . . . more than I realized I did.

_I'm in love with Harry Potter. Bloody Hell._

I looked into his eyes and leaned forward, capturing his lips with my own in a chaste kiss. He responded to my action instantly and pushed forward, deepening the kiss. One of my hands left its place at the front of the broom and ran through his ebony hair. This kiss was very different from the one we shared in the library . . . there was nothing rushed about it. It was slow and passionate . . . a kiss that only two people in love could experience. This kissed confirmed it all. I was in love with him.

We both pulled back for air sometime later and smiled, "I love you too, Harry." I heard myself say.

We both just stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes, unaware of our current surroundings. It was like nothing else existed but me, him, and the fact that we were still in midair. "I guess you've found your reason to kiss me." I said, breaking the silence.

He smiled at me, "Yeah . . . took longer than expected, though."

"I'm not complaining if this is the outcome."

There was a long pause, "Where do we go from here?"

I giggle (very unlike me, I assure you), "Do you really have to ask?"

"I guess not. But for now . . . I think we should get down from here."

"No." I said.

"No?"

"I want to stay up here."

Harry smiled at me and he placed his head stop my shoulder again. We stayed like that the whole time, gliding above Hogsmeade. I never thought riding a broom could be this pleasurable. But then again, this was with Harry . . . he always makes me see things clearer than I ever thought possible.

The ride was over before I knew it, much to my dismay. We landed by the Shrieking Shack and dismounted the broom. He helped me off the same way as he helped me on, taking my hand and letting me jump to the ground. He waved his hand over the broom and it flew off into the distance, probably to a nearby broom cupboard. I looked over at him and smiled. "We should be getting back . . . the carriages would be arriving soon."

He nodded and took my hand.

We walked hand in hand into the village and I caught people staring at us. I looked at Harry and he caught my gaze and just smiled at me. That was all of the reassurance I needed. I didn't care that every pair of eyes within ten feet of us was staring. I didn't care that Harry and I would probably be the top story in the next edition of the _Daily Prophet_ with a false story about me using him for his money and publicity. I didn't care that all of the girls in my house would be asking about Harry's kissing and shagging skills within the week. I didn't care that I would probably hear false rumors about Harry deserving better than me because of my bookish demeanor.

All I cared about was Harry . . . and the fact that he was mine and I was his. And together, we would conquer all that was thrown at us. Together.

Forever and Always.


End file.
